


tap, knock, thud

by birthmarks (orphan_account)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftermath of Violence, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Self-Indulgent Comic Book References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/birthmarks
Summary: Isak has been climbing in Jonas’s window for eight years. It was only a matter of time before something weird happened.





	tap, knock, thud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [desert_coffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_coffin/gifts).



> (This exists? I know, I’m shocked too.)
> 
> Birthmarks makes a triumphant return to archiveofourown. Working on this was surprisingly fun so I hope y’all enjoy this. Let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> The song I link at the start at the chapter is Isak’s anthem through the course of this fic re: himself and his feelings for Jonas. Listen to it if you like indie/dream-pop! 
> 
> Just want to make a quick s/o to evenvaltersen who I originally prompted this to and started to write a similar concept! I thought she wasn’t going to write it so I started writing it myself lol facepalm at me. I love her work, please go show her some love!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who roasted me for not posting in forever because I deserved it and it actually motivated me a whole lot, lmao. I can’t list everyone who gave me shit and sent sweet messages because there were so many of you, but I appreciate it all so much. 
> 
> This one is for desert because I wouldn’t have written (or finished) it without her encouragement. I love you a whole fucking lot, babe. Thanks for everything. <3

_I've suffered shipwrecks right from the start_

_I've been underwater, breathing out and in_

_I think I'm losing where you end and I begin_

[Basic Space, The xx](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHZVGqqf3gg)

 

Isak has never considered himself to be one of those exuberant, charismatic, popular kids. He’s made a lot of acquaintances, sure, but he’s never found anyone that he could truly confide in.

He decides that he’s unbothered by the lack of close friends in his life, but it gets annoying when talk of best friendships is practically everywhere.

Isak has watched enough television and read enough books to know that everyone seems to have one person in their life that they can trust with everything. The best friend propaganda is strong, and Isak doesn’t quite understand the hype around having, wanting, or needing someone to that extent.

First of all, it implies that he isn’t happy with life as is. And he is happy, and very entertained—Isak spends his days watching absurd science-fiction movies and building enough model airplanes that he could almost start his own exhibit. It’s fun. No, seriously, it is.

Second, it means that he needs someone other than himself, which is completely untrue. People live their entire lives being on their own and they seem to be doing alright. Take his mom’s sister, for example: she’s unmarried, well into her forties, and always talking about how she doesn’t need a man. Isak feels a bit inspired by her and figures that he can be like that too. He doesn’t need anyone, he’s perfectly capable of being on his own. He might only be nine at the moment, but he thinks he can keep it up.

Third, people with best friends are stupid, anyway. They act exclusive and have too many weird inside jokes that no one else understands. Isak doesn’t understand any of it.

What is the point?

(And then he meets Jonas.)

When Isak meets Jonas, his entire world shifts on its axis.

Jonas moves from Lillehammer to Oslo into an adjacent street from Isak’s when they are both nine, and suddenly there’s a tan, wild-haired boy sitting next to Isak in every single one of his classes.

(This is not by choice. There’s nothing that goes between Valtersen and Vasquez in the class listings, so Isak is stuck with the new kid.)

Isak can’t seem to escape him, and eventually it becomes that he doesn’t _want_ to escape him. Jonas turns out to be pretty cool. He isn’t loud, he actually seems to care about his homework like Isak, and on top of that—he’s fun.

Isak and Jonas are similar in some ways.

They’re both fairly chill, for one, and neither of them is the adventurous type, which Isak is thankful for. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his new friend ended up being one of those people that thought it was a good idea to spend their evenings camping _in the wild_ and stuff like that. The most they end up doing is putting up badly-made tents and pretend-camping in their backyards. Neither of them are particularly spontaneous either, although Isak is more of a planner than Jonas. Jonas is easygoing, following along with whatever as long as he thinks he’ll have a good time.

They share a lot of the same interests. Or, really, it’s more like they introduce each other to things that they both end up liking. Isak shows Jonas his sci-fi movie collection, and Jonas doesn’t laugh at him—just asks questions and goes along for the ride, and the next time there’s a new movie out, Jonas asks _him_ to see it. Jonas gets Isak into comic books and they end up starting a collection together. It turns into one of those friendships where your interests blend together and become one until you’re basically the same people.

Isak likes it. Being friends with Jonas is great.

The ways in which they are different are important, important enough that if those differences didn’t exist, Isak and Jonas would likely have never become friends.

Jonas doesn’t think twice about befriending Isak and incorporating him into his everyday activities. He easily asks Isak to join him at the skatepark, to go to the movies, to hang out at his house and play video games, and Isak wishes he had that kind of easy confidence. Jonas makes space for himself in every corner of Isak’s life without seeming to wonder if Isak even wants Jonas to do that. Isak would never be able to do that with another person, too scared and thinking of himself as a burden.

Isak is thankful that Jonas isn’t like him in that sense, because befriending Jonas becomes the best thing to happen to him.

Acquiring a best friend changes things. Suddenly, everything in Isak’s life revolves around another person. He never thought that he would find someone that he’d enjoy spending time with as much as Jonas because people his age tend to annoy him.

Jonas is the best exception there is.

 

–

 

The window thing is planned. Isak and Jonas have been watching movies together for almost a year now, and the trope has turned out to be such an odd, common occurrence. It’s in every Western movie. _Nightmare on Elm Street_. _Scary Movie_. It’s even in _Peter Pan_. (Which they were forced into watching with Jonas’s sister. They did not choose to watch that on their own free will, and how much they both ended up liking it is irrelevant.) He wonders if it’s an American thing, and if people actually do that there, because they sure don’t in Norway.

They’re watching _Scream_ on Jonas’s couch with a bowl of popcorn between them when Jonas mentions it.

“Have you noticed this is in, like, every movie we watch together?”

“Yeah,” Isak replies distractedly, shoving six kernels in his mouth at once. He’s enraptured by the movie, and isn’t sure what Jonas is on about. This weird guy entered the girl’s bedroom through her window and Isak is getting the creeps.

Jonas is quiet for a moment, going back to watching the movie, and then asks, “Do you think we could do it?”

“Huh?” Isak says, confused at the direction of this conversation. Jonas is not usually this chatty during movies.

“My bedroom is on the main floor, so it’s easy to get in if I leave it unlocked. And I can climb up the tree to go through your window.”

At this suggestion, Isak turns to Jonas and makes the most disbelieving face at him. “You want to climb up a tree just to get into my house when you can ring my doorbell?”

“It could be a thing. Doesn’t it sound like fun? Going through our windows when we visit each other. It’d feel stealthy, sort of like modern-day superheroes,” Jonas says. He sounds way too excited about this, and Isak wants him to shoot down the idea on instinct because it seems like too much work. But he also doesn’t like seeing Jonas sad, and shooting down the idea might do that.

Isak laughs at the comparison. “Superheroes, except we aren’t helping anyone and we don’t have powers.”

“Come _on_ , Issy, wouldn’t it be cool?”

Isak rolls his eyes at the nickname. Jonas has insisted on it, and Isak really isn’t warming up to the idea.

“Isn’t it kind of unsafe?” Isak says, ever the practical one.

At that, Jonas gives him the most deadpan look. “You’re so boring.”

“‘Shh, my common sense is tingling’,” Isak returns snarkily.

“Stop quoting Deadpool and entertain me for once. Who’s going to break into our house? No one cares about two ten year olds.”

Isak remains unsure, but he agrees to shut Jonas up, figuring that he’ll forget about it once they’re done the movie.

Soon, Isak realizes that his best friend is a lot more stubborn than he gave him credit for.

 

–

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh… nothing? I got three new issues of Spider-Man, and—”

“Isak, I left my bedroom window unlocked for a reason. Do you think I’m risking someone robbing my house for nothing?”

“Are you serious?”

“You like Spider-Man so much but you won’t even _try_ to be as cool as him?”

“Jonas—hey! Slamming the door in someone’s face isn’t exactly cool either!”

 

–

 

Jonas is insistent to the point where it becomes second nature for Isak to go for his window instead of his front door. He conditions Isak into it. By the third month, Isak stops complaining. If his best friend wants him to do this, then fine, he’ll do it. It’s easier access for Isak, and Jonas is the idiot who fell off a tree trying to get into his house last week, anyway.

 

–

 

Isak and Jonas are only ten when they start their tradition, but it takes two more years for it to happen at night.

Isak can feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest and the blood rushing through his ears as he bikes to Jonas’s place. They don’t have cell phones yet so he couldn't warn Jonas that he was coming over, and he sort of stopped thinking when he left his house.

When he brakes in front of his destination, he takes a moment to catch his breath, resting his head on the handlebars. It’s really late but Isak didn’t know what to do. He needed to leave, be elsewhere, and his feet had instinctively took him here after he hopped on his bicycle.

The house seems quiet when he approaches it. Isak knows from experience that Jonas’s parents are the type to sleep early, and his sister is young enough that she’s probably in bed as well. But Jonas likes to stay up until the late hours of the night, so maybe he’s awake.

(Isak hopes he’s awake, because if he isn’t, he might just break down outside his house.)

He’s more grateful than ever in this moment that Jonas has a bedroom on the main floor because he can’t imagine having to climb up something in the pitch-darkness like Jonas likely would have had to. As he moves to push the frame open, he tentatively parts the curtains in time to see Jonas startle from his position on his bed.

“Isak?” Jonas asks, in a surprised tone. He’s playing on his Nintendo DS but he snaps it shut as soon as he sees the look on Isak’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Isak climbs through the window completely, steadying himself as he thinks of what to say. But he can barely breathe. His feet lead him to stand in front of Jonas’s bed, but the words don’t come out as easily as he hoped they would.

Jonas asks _what’s wrong_ because this is the first time Isak has come over at this hour. He asks _what’s wrong_ because Isak’s eyes are red-rimmed, hair likely a mess of golden curls that need a haircut, and jeans stained from when he tripped on the grass leaving his house. He probably looks like a mess.

Here’s the thing: Isak doesn’t talk about his family. He does sometimes, but primarily on a need-to-know basis. So Jonas doesn’t know.

Jonas doesn’t know that his parents fight all the time. He doesn’t know that Isak overheard his dad saying that his mom has been dealing with something called postpartum depression since after she gave birth to him, and that while she’s always been there during his life, she’s only been mentally present half the time. Jonas doesn’t know that when his mom _is_ mentally present, it’s still not good because then, his parents are fighting. He doesn’t know that sometimes his mom hallucinates to the point of not recognizing her own son. He doesn’t know that tonight, she violently threw a glass mug at his head because she thought he was breaking into his own house.

(He doesn’t know that Isak blames himself for every single one of these events occurring.)

Isak had ducked in time, but he had been alone when it happened. It’s the first time his mom has ever tried to hurt him, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to get the words out. He wants to tell _someone_. Jonas has been his best friend for two years. Surely, if he can talk to anyone, it would be him.

But he’s scared. He’s never told anyone about it before. And would his mom get in trouble if Jonas told someone? He doesn’t want them to take his mom away from him; he loves her, she’s just not well.

Isak takes a shuddering breath and crawls up Jonas’s bed. He sits cross-legged in front of him, clasping his hands together, and then he says quietly, “I couldn’t be there anymore.”

“Be at home?” Jonas questions, tentatively. Isak can’t blame him for the hesitance; he isn’t exactly acting normally.

“Yeah,” Isak confirms. Before he can tell him anything, though, he needs to make sure: “I want to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

Jonas looks at him, furrow between his brows, and says softly, “Of course, Is... Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Isak whispers, because he doesn’t.

And then he talks.

And at one point, he cries. It’s not his proudest moment, but he’s never verbalized his feelings to anyone before, and it’s incredibly overwhelming talking about his problems for the first time.

When he’s done his story, they’re lying down on the bed staring at Jonas’s ceiling. Jonas remains quiet beside him, has been quiet this entire time, and it makes Isak feel both grateful and nervous.

In the end, all Jonas says is, “I’m glad you told me. If you ever need somewhere to be, you know you can come here.”

It’s as simple as that.

Isak turns his head on Jonas’s pillow to look at him, only to find Jonas already looking back. He’s giving him the most honest and empathetic look that Isak has ever had directed at him, and Isak has never felt so thankful to have Jonas as a best friend.

“Thanks, Jonas,” he says softly.

Jonas gives him a reassuring smile, and Isak wants to cry a little again. From the sadness he feels for himself, and his mom, and his dad. From the true display of friendship Jonas has shown him today by being there for him and listening. From the relief of finally not having the burden of his family secrets weighing down on his shoulders.

Isak goes back home that night because he doesn’t want to freak out his dad and his father predictably shouts at him for leaving during dark hours. Isak can’t bring himself to care, though. This is the most free he’s felt in years, and he has Jonas to thank for it.    

 

–

 

It’s eight days after Jonas’s fourteenth birthday when he crawls through Isak’s bedroom window looking like absolute hell.

Not that Isak realizes at first. He’s distractedly finishing homework for his Norwegian class when Jonas walks through, and he’s so used to Jonas showing up at his house at random times that he doesn’t bother looking up when he says, “Hey, bro.”

Jonas doesn’t respond, but Isak can hear him unzip his winter jacket and sit down on Isak’s bed from the telltale squeak it emits. Isak doesn’t find anything odd about the situation—sometimes Jonas comes up when he wants to chill and they hang together in silence, doing their own thing. He figures this is another one of those times.

It’s only when he’s about to start the final question on his paper when he hears an odd noise.

He stills.

He hears the noise again. If he’s correct, that noise sounds disturbingly like crying.

He slowly turns to look behind him, and that’s when he sees a horrifying image: Jonas sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting over his knees with his face in his hands. His shoulders are convulsing, sobs wracking through his body, and Isak can feel his body seize at the sight.

That is the moment that Isak starts freaking out internally, because in the five years he’s known Jonas, been Jonas’s best friend, he’s never seen him cry like this. Jonas is always calm and collected. Jonas doesn’t get emotional. He gets heated during debates and is stubborn as hell, and he’s an ass half the time, but never _emotional_.

Isak gets out of his chair abruptly and quickly moves to kneel in front of Jonas. He reaches out to Jonas’s shoulder, hesitating before resting his hand there in a move of comfort.

“Shit,” Isak curses, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t swear much for a fourteen-year-old so that alone says this is absurd.

“Jonas?” He asks quietly, and he probably could have tried to mask how scared his voice sounded, but he can’t really think straight when Jonas is sobbing in front of him.

Jonas continues to cry, rubbing at his cheeks to dry his tears, and Isak can’t deal with this. “Jonas?” Isak tries again, a little louder, desperate to figure out what is going on.

It takes a couple moments, but Jonas finally takes a deep, steadying breath, and looks up at Isak’s face. He stares at him for a good thirty seconds, each second bringing Isak closer to a mental breakdown, and then he breaks. “She’s going to die,” Jonas says, voice cracking, and his face crumples again before he puts it back in his hands.

That statement definitely does not help Isak’s internal freak out, but Jonas seems so distraught that he figures it might help to try to calm him down before figuring out what it means.

“Okay, Jonas, please take some deep breaths with me. Breathe in and out, like this,” Isak says, demonstrating for him. Jonas shudders a few times before he tries to follow along, breathing deeply with tear tracks running down his face.

Isak’s heart clenches at the sight.

Once Jonas is calmer, he tries for the third time. “Jonas, what’s going on?”

Jonas swallows thickly, and then says in a high, teary voice, “Mom has ovarian cancer.”

Shit.

“Shit,” Isak voices. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Jonas nods at this, and Isak feels utterly useless. He can’t think of anything comforting to say. What does one say to comfort their friends in situations that are out of their control? Isak moves to sit down on the bed in a position facing Jonas, and he wants to be there for Jonas in the way Jonas has been there for him, but he genuinely has no idea what to do.

Isak can tell Jonas is holding back tears, and it soon becomes too much to contain so he starts to sob again.

Isak can’t take it. He reaches out without thinking and pulls Jonas into the tightest hug he can muster.

Isak and Jonas don’t hug much, but they are tactile with each other. An arm around the shoulder, a random punch on the body, a wrestling fight for fun, some tickling if they’re trying to rile the other one up. But hugging? Rarely, and always one-armed.

But this is the biggest hug Isak has given anyone in a while. He and his parents don’t really hug anymore, so this is physically the closest he’s been to another person in _years_.

He tries not to think about that fact. This hug is a slightly uncomfortable position as Jonas isn’t facing Isak. His arms sort of lie limp at his sides, Jonas’s head fitting into the crook of Isak’s neck. He’s crying quietly now, tears soaking Isak’s shirt, Isak couldn’t care less.

“It’ll be okay,” Isak murmurs. “You’ll both get through this, I promise. And I’ll be here for you the entire time.”

Jonas cries harder at this, and all Isak can do is tighten his arm around him, a hand moving up to comb through Jonas’s curls soothingly. He wants to hold onto him for as long as he can, absorb Jonas’s pain through his own body. He doesn’t want Jonas to have to deal with it anymore. Jonas is the best person he knows, and the fact that he’s been dealt this card in life makes Isak rage inside.

Soon, Jonas is simply shuddering into Isak’s body, so Isak repositions them on the bed so that they can lie down and feel more comfortable. Isak wipes Jonas’s tears away with his thumbs, holding his head between both of his hands. Jonas’s eyes are closed, but Isak’s are wide open and he’s devastated for him. When they’re lying down, he moves Jonas’s head to rest against his chest and after a moment, Jonas’s arm curls around Isak’s midsection, sniffling into the soft cotton of his shirt.

It could be weird, but it’s not. This is Jonas—the same Jonas that saw Isak cry when he told him about his parents and smiled in reassurance. The same Jonas that has now been with Isak through everything. He’s not going to let it get weird, especially in this moment. Jonas needs him now more than ever.

Jonas sinks in naturally against Isak’s body and eventually finally succumbs to sleep, undoubtedly drained from all the crying. Isak holds him through the night, petting his dark curls and looking at the circles under his eyes. He stays awake until the sun rises again, wondering how the universe could be so cruel to the kindest soul he knows.

 

–

 

It’s a long battle, but Jonas’s mom ends up overcoming her cancer after extensive consultation appointments and a surgical procedure. She ends up being okay, but Isak never forgets that night. Seeing his best friend in that state is a disturbing memory that will stay with him forever, and holding Jonas through the night as he slept in his arms is a memory that Isak can’t even begin to describe.

 

–

 

Being friends with Jonas is many things.

It’s debating over their favourite superheroes and getting into fights over it. They last a grand total of three hours, but they’re real fights where both of them actually get pissed at one another. It’s watching movies together and Jonas giving Isak shit when he inevitably loses masculinity points and tears up over Nemo getting separated from his dad. It’s showing each other new music and continuing to do so until they’re not quite sure where their music taste ends and the other’s begins.

It’s knowing the difference between when the other person needs to talk, and when they need silence and company instead. It’s wanting to protect them from any kind of hurt that might come their way and worrying about them constantly, even when they’re not around.

(It’s wrestling over a stupid video game victory until Isak is out of breath. It’s confusion when he realizes that he might be looking at Jonas a little too long, wondering if everyone appreciates their best friend’s beauty in the same way.)

Being friends with Jonas is such second nature, such inevitability, that it becomes the simplest thing Isak knows.

 

–

 

Things shift when Jonas and Eva start dating.

It’s different from when Ingrid was in the picture. When Jonas dated Ingrid, it seemed like it was something he decided to do because that’s what everyone else their age was doing. Isak could understand that; in retrospect, he recognizes that he dated Sara in his tenth year for the same reasoning.

But Jonas seems to genuinely like Eva and that is beyond Isak’s comprehension.

In his sixteen years of living, Isak has yet to experience having romantic feelings for anyone, so liking someone like that is an abstract concept to him. Worse yet—Jonas and Eva being together actually begins to bother him, which is beyond confusing.

It starts one evening when Eva calls Jonas and Isak over to hang out. They’re going to chill at her house, watch something on her big screen, but the thing that irks Isak is when they’re standing outside her house and she texts Jonas, _you can climb through my window_.

Before this point, Isak thought of the window thing as uncommon. It’s a fantasy that revolves around cliché films that Isak spent his childhood watching. He never realized that it was a thing that other people actually _did_. Establishing that tradition made him feel sort of special because they managed to bring something surreal to life.

And now Eva is here taking that away from Isak and he doesn’t quite know what to feel.

It’s childish and ridiculous and Isak can’t believe he’s getting upset over a fucking window.

A few days later, Jonas makes the situation even worse by turning to him while they’re smoking a bowl and saying, “Seriously, Isak, Eva is really amazing. I didn’t know I could feel this way. She feels like a kindred spirit to me, you know? Like, remember the window thing? How coincidental was that? She’s basically one of us.”

Isak wants to shout at him in frustration that _IT’S JUST A FUCKING WINDOW IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE SOULMATES_ but then he decides to reel it in because, woah, that is not chill at all.

So he ends up settling for a infinitely more chill, “I’m happy for you, dude.”

(And he is. He is.)

 

–

 

(Or at least that’s what he tells himself.)

Jonas tries his best not to neglect Isak. Isak can tell by the way that Jonas is always inviting him to things that would typically only be done between Jonas and Eva, like going to the movies or taking a trip to her cabin.

Isak appreciates it, notices it, but he can’t help but feel disconnected from Jonas in a way he never has before. He’s not sure why. Jonas is trying, Isak knows he is, but the situation continues to eat away at him.

Toward Christmastime, Jonas texts Isak to invite him to his house. The first thing Isak asks is, _Will it be only us?_ , because more often than not, Jonas is already hanging out with Eva or that asshole Elias.

(Isak hates Elias with the force of a thousand suns. He’s a dickhead and his weed is shit.)

Jonas replies, _Yessss. Quality bro time with my favourite Issy. <3 <3 <3 _

Isak texts back, _Ugh, shut up._ But it looks a tad mean, so he adds, _ <3 be there in ten_.

It only takes about thirty minutes of Isak being in Jonas’s house for them to start lighting up. Isak hasn’t smoked in two weeks, so when the weed starts to affect him, he wholeheartedly welcomes the lethargy that passes through him.

They play FIFA, Isak kicks Jonas’s ass twice (…out of five) and then they climb up on Jonas’s bed to watch _Interstellar_. Their heads end up pressed together, thighs touching, and Isak is grateful for the human contact. He and Jonas haven’t hung out like this in over four months and Isak had begun to miss him immensely.

The credits roll and Isak rants about parallel universes. The weed probably isn’t helping the nerd talk, but Jonas smiles at him indulgently, asking questions about the physics behind the multiverse which Isak, surprisingly, already knows a bit about. Reason number five hundred Isak loves Jonas: he always entertains Isak’s ranting after they smoke a bowl.

Quality bro time, indeed.

By the time they’re done talking about it, it’s almost midnight.

“You can sleep over, no big deal,” Jonas suggests.

“Sure,” Isak agrees, because he’s feeling way too tired to bike home right now. It might only be a five minute ride, but it’s five minutes too long for a high Isak.

When he comes back from brushing his teeth in the bathroom, Jonas has fixed his bed for the two of them, twice as many pillows on top of it than before.

“Are we sharing your bed, then?”

“Yeah,” Jonas says, distractedly looking through his wardrobe. He throws a pair of gym shorts and an oversized tee at Isak which he catches despite Jonas’s shit aim.

Isak goes into the bathroom again to change, and when he comes back the only light in the room is that of Jonas’s laptop and the moonlight slipping through his bedroom window. Isak crawls in bedside him in the bed and gets comfortable while Jonas powers down his laptop and places it on the floor beside his bed.

“Your bed is getting too small for the two of us, Jonas,” Isak complains after they both try to find a position that is comfortable for two teenage boys.

“Fuck, remember when we were like twelve and we could fit in it barely touching?”

Isak grunts in response. They are definitely touching right now, but Isak is trying not to think about that too much.

A quiet silence falls between them, and Isak closes his eyes. He’s thinking about the sound of Jonas’s breathing when Jonas says something surprising.

“I know you don’t like her.”

His eyes snap open. “What?” Isak says, turning his head on his pillow to look at Jonas the best he can in the darkness.

“Eva,” he clarifies. Isak meets Jonas’s eyes, and he can’t see them entirely, but from the tone of Jonas’s voice he can tell that they’re probably saying, _don’t lie to me, I’m your best friend_.

He opts for the truth. “It’s not that I don’t like _her_ …” Isak trails off, looking away. He isn’t quite sure how to explain his aversion to their relationship.

The truth is that Isak likes Eva. In fact, he adores her. She’s a great friend, hilarious and boisterous, and she’s quickly become the second most important friend in his life after Jonas. But something about Jonas and Eva dating doesn’t quite sit right with him.

There’s something more there, gnawing at him underneath his skin, waiting to come out. Isak knows it’s there, knows that he’ll need to acknowledge it one day, but tonight, he can’t. Not with Jonas lying next to him in his bed.

“I didn’t know what to think of your relationship, is all,” Isak finishes.

Jonas sighs. “It’s fine. We decided to take a break, anyway.”

Isak swerves his head back to Jonas. “ _What?_ ” He says a little too loudly for the nighttime. Jonas shushes him, and then Isak says a little quieter, “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I wanted to destress a bit without you pitying me,” Jonas explains quietly.

“I don’t pity you, bro,” Isak says, surprised. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s over. We’ve been drifting apart since she made new friends… and Elias told me that he heard that she was flirting with Christoffer from third year.”

Jesus. Isak does sort of feel bad Jonas, because that’s shit.

“I asked her to see her phone and she didn’t want to show me,” Jonas continues, “And then I realized we don’t trust each other. She kept asking about Ingrid and would never believe me, and I still hadn’t told her about the weed. She was talking to Chris and I had no idea. How can we be together if we don’t trust each other?”

Isak stays quiet, but he agrees with everything Jonas is saying. There isn’t much else to say, because Jonas seems to know all of it, so Isak decides to keep it simple. “I hope you’re both okay.”

“We’ll be fine, Is,” Jonas says, and even though it’s pitch-black in the room, Isak can hear the smile in his voice.

They’re silent again until Jonas says, “Well, if you didn’t hate Eva, you definitely hate Elias.”

Isak snorts. “Uh. Yeah, man, Elias is a dick.”

Jonas laughs loudly at this, probably at the frankness of his statement, and then says, “Well, I found someone else to sell me weed. We don’t need him around anymore.”

Isak smiles softly and whispers, “Okay.”

Jonas falls asleep quickly, but Isak can’t rest after the new revelation.

There’s a sense elation coursing through his body. Maybe he shouldn’t feel happy that Jonas and Eva broke up, but Jonas himself said that their relationship was no longer making sense, so he’ll be happier now—right?

It’s just that Isak felt _weird_ about their relationship. He wasn’t acting like himself and he always felt like a third wheel. He kept getting annoyed when Jonas wasn’t available to hang out with him, and he hated being annoyed with Jonas.

Honestly, it was a bit of a lonely time. It reminded him too much of his days pre-Jonas. Despite the fact that Jonas was his best friend regardless of who he was dating, Isak didn’t like feeling second to Eva, and he can’t help but feel like a bad friend for being pleased that once again, he was number one in Jonas’s life.

 

–

 

During the months to follow Jonas and Eva’s break up, Isak realizes that he’s in love with his best friend.

This realization comes a while after his internal acknowledgement of an _okay, maybe I’m a little gay_. He enjoys looking at dicks a little too much in porn, and if he’s being honest with himself, that isn’t exactly the straightest thing.

Isak’s realization of _okay, maybe I’m a little gay_ turns into a _okay, but does being a little gay mean I can’t like girls?_ which eventually turns into a _okay, I’m definitely not into girls_ after attempting to date Sara Nørrstelien for the second time in his life.

It finally culminates into a _fucking hell I’m in fucking love with fucking Jonas_ , which is something that takes a bit more time for Isak to accept.

Jonas is straight, is the thing. He’s always talking about girls and how hot girls are and eating girls out and technique to make girls come easier and while, sure, Isak doesn’t mind him sharing the wealth of knowledge, he begins to realize that knowledge is utterly useless to him and Jonas talking about girls, girls, girls becomes annoying as hell.

On top of this, Isak’s mother has a series of intense breakdowns during December, January, and March. She’s diagnosed with schizophrenia. Isak feels more helpless than ever.

Jonas is there for him through it all. Isak can’t say the same for his dad, who slowly becomes more absent as time passes by.

There’s a lot of silent angsting on his part during those months. Only Isak would be idiotic enough to fall for the one person in his life that cares about him.

 

–

 

Jonas texts Isak, _Are you up? Stopping by_ , at 22:40 in the middle of April. Isak replies with a simple, _Yeah_ , and checks his hair in the mirror three times before he deems himself appropriate to be in the company of other humans beings. (Especially Jonas.)

He checks five minutes later and scrunches his eyebrows at the one unread message on his phone.

 _Can you open the door? Can’t climb up tonight_.

That’s… weird. Jonas and Isak have now been friends for seven years and it’s been forever since they walked through each other’s front door.

Isak moves through his house with soft footsteps to unlock the door, trying his best not to disturb his sleeping parents. He switches the latch as quietly as he can and when he opens the door, his eyes bug out of their sockets.

“What the fuck, Jonas?” Isak exclaims in a whisper, horrified as he takes in his bloody face. There’s blood _everywhere_ , and he looks disgusting and bruised. There’s even some blood on Jonas’s favourite sherpa jean jacket. That’s going to leave a nasty stain.

Jonas looks annoyed. “I’ll explain after,” he says, voice a little nasally from the blood in his nose, and then asks for a wet towel, some ice, and two painkillers.

Isak complies as quickly as possible, moving through his house and returning to his bedroom where he deposited Jonas before.

Jonas holds his hand out for the wet towel, but Isak refuses. “I’ll do it,” he says quietly, sitting on the floor in front of him and cleaning the blood off from around his face. Jonas’s face is stoic and he’s quiet, but not in the way that puts Isak at ease. This is the kind of quiet that Jonas adopts when he’s uncomfortable and upset.

Isak holds Jonas’s chin up as he cleans his nose, heart beating loudly in his chest at their close proximity. He tries to ignore it as he swipes the warm, wet cloth gently over his face, but they’re close. So fucking close that if Isak wanted to, he could kiss him in this moment. And he wants to. He desperately wants to kiss Jonas—out of love, out of anger, out of comfort.

But this isn’t the time. Jonas is upset and Isak needs to make sure he’s okay.

He puts the cloth down when he’s done and hands Jonas a pack of ice wrapped in a clean towel. “Put this on your face,” Isak instructs.

“Okay, doc,” Jonas says sarcastically.

Isak looks up sharply. “Jonas.”

“What?”

“What happened tonight?”

Heavy silence.

“I got jumped by the Yakuza.”

Holy shit. “How did that happen?”

“I was at a party a few weeks ago and one of the guys had been a dick to Eva there,” Jonas mumbles. “I got into a small fight, remember? I guess they wanted payback.”

“Fuck,” Isak says. “But you barely hit them? How many guys did this to you?”

Jonas doesn’t look like he wants to admit it, but he reluctantly mutters, “There were five of them, I think.”

“That’s an attack,” Isak says in an angry voice. “They can’t get away with that.”

“They were a little racist to me,” Jonas adds, even quieter.

Isak stills. “What the fuck?” Isak says, disgusted. “So this could be a hate crime.”

“It’s not that serious, Issy.”

“What did they say to you?” Isak asks furiously, not sure if he wants to know.

Jonas stays quiet. Isak brings his hand to lift Jonas’s chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. Jonas seems angry and sad, but he knocks Isak’s hand away.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jonas responds quietly. Isak’s chest burns at how defeated he sounds.

He’s going to fucking kill them.

“Jonas,” he says in a fierce voice, and Jonas looks up. Isak’s eyes are probably blazing, more intent than ever. “They’ll pay for this.”

Jonas snorts. “Are you going to beat them up for me? Defend my honour?” He teases.

“Yes,” Isak says, nodding seriously.

Jonas smiles slightly for the first time tonight at Isak’s determination. “Okay, Is,” he says disbelievingly.

“We need to get justice. This is disgusting.”

Jonas chuckles. “Justice? ‘Justice is about harmony. Revenge is about making yourself feel better.’”

Jonas quoting superhero films at him releases some tension in Isak’s shoulders from the familiarity. “Then let’s get revenge.”

Jonas looks at him and nods. Probably because when Isak sets his mind on something, it’s a little hard to snap him out of it, so he knows it’s a lost cause.

Absolutely no one fucks with Jonas under Isak’s watch. He might not be able to fight a violent gang of racist assholes, but maybe he can manipulate a bunch of more harmless assholes to fight on his behalf. He just has to play his cards right.

 

–

 

Two weeks later, Isak is lying on his bed playing Hearthstone on his phone and texting Jonas in between breaks.   

> **ISAK** **  
> **No worries bro, Yakuza won’t get away with this  
>  I’ve been talking to Chris and he says he can help us out
> 
> **JONAS** **  
> ** Chris? Eva’s friend?
> 
> **ISAK**  
>  Penetrator Chris
> 
> **JONAS** **  
> ** Wtf Isak, I want nothing to do with that guy. He was flirting with Eva while I was with her, remember???
> 
> **ISAK**  
>  They can’t get away with attacking you, Jonas. That’s fucked up.  
>  It isn’t only you. I heard they’ve done it to more people.  
>  Seek vengeance, Batman-style

Isak returns to his game when Jonas takes a little long to reply. His parents have been shouting downstairs for the past thirty minutes, but ignoring them isn’t working this time. He stands up and moves to open his door a bit to eavesdrop, wincing at the familiar argument echoing from the kitchen to his bedroom.

“What am I supposed to _do_ , Terje?”

“I expect you to be able to take care…”

Isak shuts his door abruptly. He doesn’t want to hear this again.

He sighs, grabbing his weed stash from under his mattress and putting it in the pocket of his hoodie. He checks to make sure he has his phone, his headphones and his lighter before slipping on his shoes and climbing out of his bedroom window and down the tree next to it.

When he’s on the grass, he pulls out his phone and texts Jonas to warn him in advance.   

> **ISAK**  
>  Yo, I’m On my way!  
>  Ugh fuck autocorrect  
>  Anyway, mom and dad are fighting and I’m getting a headache. We can discuss the details of the fight when I’m there? I’m bringing my batch ;)

He slips on his headphones to listen to some music as he walks to Jonas’s house. It’s a fifteen minute walk so he waits for Jonas to text him back as he makes his way over there.  

> **ISAK** ****  
> Reply, asshole  
>  Whatever I’m almost there, two mins

Isak takes the headphones out of his ears and wraps them around his phone as he approaches Jonas’s house. When he reaches his window he realizes that the light is out in his room, which is disappointing because Isak didn’t think Jonas was busy tonight and Isak really needed a distraction. His window is open, though, masking the contents of his room with the curtains. Isak figures, well, Jonas won’t mind if he hangs out in his room alone, it’s not like he’s never done it before. He just doesn’t want to go home.

He moves the curtains out of the way only to realize that Jonas _is_ in his room. He’s in his room, on his bed, and he’s fucking _naked_ , hand wrapped around his dick.

The moonlight illuminates him in the darkness, peeking through the curtains that Isak has moved aside. Jonas looks like some kind of Greek god straight out of Isak’s darkest fantasies.

(That might be a little dramatic, but Isak can attest that he honestly does think Jonas looks that good.)

Jonas thrusts his cock into the hand around him, groaning loudly and unabashedly. Isak can feel his mouth instantly go dry as he watches, listens to Jonas get himself off, relishing in the low groans coming from his lips. His blood is quickly rushing south as he takes in the sight of Jonas’s dick.

 _Fuck, that’s a nice dick_ , Isak’s mind whispers to him. His brain is short-circuiting and he can’t help but stare longingly.

Is this a dream?

Jonas is thick and big in his hand, and his hand… wow, his hand looks really good. Long, thick fingers, dragging up the length of his cock, teasing at the slit before they move back downward and grip the base. Jonas whimpers as he squeezes the head, sounding like he’s losing his mind. Isak can relate.

He must have used something to make the glide easier, likely some lube or lotion, because Isak can hear loud, wet sounds ringing through the otherwise silent of the room, accompanied only by Jonas’s panting and moaning. He can see precome bubbling at the tip of Jonas’s dick. Isak bites his lip as he watches, stunned at what he has walked in on but not wanting to disturb the glorious moment.

Jonas hasn’t realized that he has a visitor, too caught up in jerking himself off, and Isak is at a loss for what to do. Is there some kind of protocol for catching your best friend masturbating?

Jonas is so close—close enough to touch, close enough to taste, and if Isak was unsure of if he liked guys or liked _Jonas_ before this moment, he sure as hell knows now.

It might be a little impolite to stop Jonas from enjoying himself. (And he doesn’t want to be impolite. Isak has incredible manners, that’s all, really.) But he also doesn’t think he could live down the guilt of watching Jonas _come_ , especially if he doesn’t know that Isak is watching him right now. Just as he’s about to gather his courage to clear his throat and announce his presence, Jonas’s eyelids flutter open.

“Fucking hell, Isak. What the fuck?”

Shit. This is embarrassing.

Well, he can’t run away now, so he’s going to have to face the situation head-on. “Hi,” Isak says. _Hi? Nice one, Isak._

“How long have you been there?” Jonas says in horror.

“A few minutes,” Isak replies dumbly. His eyes are still stuck on how Jonas’s big, tan hand looks wrapped around his dick, and the way his thumb was rubbing wetly at the precome gathering at the slit of his cockhead, and—shit. He shakes himself out of it because it’s so _not_ normal to watch your bro jerk off for ‘a few minutes’ and not say anything.

Isak would be scared of Jonas thinking he’s a creep, but Jonas is still panting and startled by this abrupt change in his night that he doesn’t bother acknowledging Isak’s comment.

A small part of Isak wants to go, _you can finish if you want, don’t mind me_ , but he wills it away and shoves it into a box. Jonas moves quickly, taking his hand off his dick and looking around the room, probably for his underwear.

Isak knows it’s rude to stare, but it’s impossible for him to shift his eyes from the scene in front of him. It’s not like anyone can blame him: it’s Jonas and his tan skin and his dick and—fucking hell, Jonas’s dick. It’s beautiful. Isak has watched a lot of porn and seen a lot of dicks, but he’s never laid eyes on one of beautiful as Jonas’s.

(He’s probably a bit biased, but he’s in love, okay.)

Anyway. Back to the present.

Jonas finds his underwear discarded at the side of his bed and moves to put it back on, and Isak tentatively moves into the center of the bedroom, turning on the lamp at the side of Jonas’s bed.

It’s a little tense, so Isak tries his hand at humour. “You know, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner,” he remarks in a light voice. Jonas is a bit more clothed now, lying propped up against his pillows.

The humour works. Jonas rolls his eyes, lips turning up at the side, and Isak counts it as a victory. He sits down on the edge of Jonas’s bed, deliberately leaving a good bit of space between them and avoiding eye contact with Jonas’s lap.

“Yeah, well if it was me walking in on you, I’d have made my presence known sooner than _a_ _few minutes_ ,” Jonas says mockingly. He’s looking at Isak out of the corner of his eye.

Isak’s eyes shift downward, and fuck, Jonas. His briefs are tight and grey and they look great on him, and Jonas is obviously still hard.

“Um,” Isak says ineloquently, brain stupid from staring at Jonas’s dick. He’s still a bit shocked by what he walked in on, okay, and the sight of Jonas jerking off has been fatal to his critical thinking.

Jonas turns to Isak and sees him looking at his dick. “Dude,” Jonas says, and then Isak’s eyes snap up to him in a panic. How is Isak supposed to explain why he’s staring at his best friend’s dick?

Isak swallows thickly at the lump in his throat. His heart is racing. “Sorry, it’s just—” Isak tries, and his voice is completely shot. “You’re still hard.”

Jonas blinks at him. “Well, yeah,” he says, voice slow as molasses, “I didn’t get to finish, and I was having a pretty good time before.”

Isak licks his lips. He did look like he was having a good time.

And then, before he can stop himself—“You can finish up if you want.”

Jonas freezes.

Isak freezes.

Oh, _fuck_. He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. He was supposed to keep that in the fucking box.

“Um,” Jonas repeats, echoing Isak.

Isak keeps his mouth shut, wishing he had superpowers so he could... Poof. Gone. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything, he’ll disintegrate into thin air. That would probably be better than backtracking and realizing that he just said that out loud _to his best friend_.

“Like, right now… with you… here?” Jonas asks, unsure, voice trailing off at the end.

Isak looks into Jonas’s eyes. Jonas doesn't seem disgusted. He doesn’t seem like anything, other than a little hesitant. His face is carefully blank, and Isak doesn’t know what to make of it. This is one of the few times in his life that he hasn’t been able to read him.

Isak has yet to answer to question, so Jonas’s eyes drop down to Isak’s lap. Isak suddenly remembers too late that he’s been hard this entire time, too.

Isak wants to put a hand over his dick, rearrange himself so Jonas can’t tell that he’s affected, but they’re past the point of return now.

“Sorry. It's a Pavlovian reaction. You know, to seeing another dick. Because of porn! Ha, you know how it is. There's a dick involved. And some tits.”

“Um,” Jonas squints at him, thrown off by his nervous rambling, “Sure.”

Jesus Christ, Isak is making a fool out of himself.

Jonas tries to discreetly adjust his dick in his briefs, probably because sitting there with his dick hard isn't the most comfortable thing, but the touch forces a small sound out of his throat.

Isak licks his lips. God, Jonas is so fucking hot like this.

“Sorry,” Jonas says, voice heavy from want. “Give me a minute or something. It'll go away.”

“Fuck, bro, just jerk off,” Isak bursts out. _Shit, not again_. Isak’s subconscious must really want him to watch Jonas masturbate some more.

“Is that not weird?” Jonas asks incredulously.

 _Yes_. “Nah, I’ve heard of plenty of guys jerking off in front of each other before,” Isak says in the most casual voice he can muster. _That was in porn_ , his brain supplies unhelpfully, and he shuts it down immediately. Jonas doesn't need to know that part.

Jonas is palming at his dick a bit, clearly still worked up from earlier, and Isak has had enough. He can’t sit here and watch Jonas work at his dick without losing his mind. And he kind of doesn’t want to wait for it to go away.

He decides that in this moment, he’s an opportunist, and he goes for it.

“Alright, look,” he says, and promptly sheds the shirt he was wearing. Jonas stares at him, and Isak is definitely acting strangely, but he pushes through it. He works quickly on taking off his pants, and then he’s standing in front of Jonas, in Jonas’s bedroom, naked. Save for his boxer briefs. “It’s chill.”

 _IT IS SO NOT CHILL_ , Isak’s brain screams. He's going to ignore that voice. It’s too late—he’s already done it, so he might as well follow through with this bizarre plan.

(Spoiler alert: Isak does not have a plan.)

Isak might be freaking out a bit, but the way Jonas is looking at him puts him at ease. He feels a shiver run through his body, skin prickling in the wake of Jonas checking out his body. He starts at Isak’s ankles, moving upward and lingering on his thighs and spending a fair amount of time on his cock. He licks his lips as he takes in Isak’s abs, his pectoral area, and finally stop on Isak’s face. Jonas looks scared. Scared, but with a hint of interest.

Most of all, Jonas looks incredibly good. Lying down on his bed, cock hard in his boxers, brazenly checking Isak out. Or at least that’s what Isak thinks just happened.

“It’s fine, dude, really,” Isak says in a reassuring voice. He doesn’t believe himself, but fake it ‘til you make it has been Isak’s motto for the past few months. Albeit in a much less gay context.

He goes to lie down on the edge of Jonas’s bed, mind racing, and tries to make the situation a little less homosexual by saying, “Maybe we could like, not take our dicks out. And not look at each other.”

Jonas doesn’t say anything for a long time until he says, “Okay.”

And—fuck, he actually went for it?

Isak feels a little weird, lying perpendicular to Jonas, knowing they’re about to touch themselves in front of each other. But he’s already seen Jonas’s dick and witnessed a good five minutes of him jerking himself off, so he figures it might be fair to go first this time around.

He slips his hand down his abdomen, teasing the edge of his briefs with his fingertips. It’s a little difficult to do this in company, but maybe blocking out the fact that Jonas is in the room with him will help.

It does the opposite. Remembering that Jonas is here, lying on his bed with a full view of Isak makes his dick jump in his briefs, and he whimpers at the slight friction.

“Shit,” Isak moans, and it emits a strangled noise from Jonas. Cause and reaction. It spurs him on to reach down and trail his fingers lightly over the length of his cock, teasing himself a bit before he goes further. There’s a bit of shuffling coming from Jonas’s side of the bed, and when Isak looks out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Jonas beginning to palm himself again.

Isak wonders if Jonas has been watching him, and if it’s turning him on. The thought makes him press the heel of his hand to his cock, dragging it from the base to the tip. And then he squeezes, hard.

“Oh,” Isak breathes out, shuddering and closing his eyes. That feels good.

He does it again, allowing himself moan openly and succumb to pleasure as he relieves the tension in his body. He can’t help the breathy noises he’s making as he touches himself, and when he opens his eyes and breaks his rule of not looking at Jonas, he’s unsurprised to find him already looking back, gaze molten and dark and unmoving as it stares at the hand on Isak’s dick.

Jonas’s eyes meet his. He licks his lips once and asks in a strained voice, “Are you comfortable like that?”

Isak grips the base of his cock, scared that Jonas talking to him while he does this will make him come too soon. He’s going to drag this out for as long as he can.

“On the bed, I mean,” Jonas clarifies, gulping loudly. “If you want, you can come lie down next to me.”

Isak can’t believe Jonas is asking him to move _closer_ to him while they do this, but he’s not going to complain. He scoots up on the bed, resting his head on the pillow next to Jonas’s. They’re lying so close to each other now, close enough for Isak to touch if he wants to. But he won’t. He has self-restraint.

Jonas closes his eyes and goes back to stroking his dick over his briefs, and Isak is thankful that he’s wearing that grey colour because he can see an obvious wet spot forming through the fabric.

Isak’s eyes are open. He can’t close them, he physically cannot—he wants to watch as Jonas gets himself off. His hand moves to his own cock, dragging over himself indulgently, and then Jonas’s hips buck up. Isak looks at Jonas’s face and watches as he bites down on his lip, not wanting to make noise, but his heavy breathing is enough of a sign for his arousal.

When Isak looks down at Jonas’s cock, it seems even harder than before.

Fuck it. Isak can’t do this. He has no self-restraint whatsoever.

It’s an out of body experience, the events that follow.

He doesn’t have to reach out much, but when his fingers make contact with Jonas’s clothed dick, stroking reverently like he can’t believe that this is happening, that this is _his_ hand on _Jonas’s_ dick, his mouth drops open.

Shit, he feels good.

Jonas moans loudly at the feeling of Isak’s fingers on his dick. Isak is just gently dragging his fingers over it, touching it for the sake of touching, but Jonas seems to want more. “Fuck, Isak,” Jonas pants, squirming against the hand. “Touch me, please, touch me.”

This can’t be real.

Isak doesn’t want to wake up from this dream so he obeys, wrapping his hand around Jonas the best he can. And then he decides, no, they can do something better.

He takes his hand off of Jonas’s cock, smirking when Jonas lets out a displeased cry from the lack of contact, and then swings his leg over Jonas’s other side.

He’s on top of Jonas now, straddling his body between his legs and when he grinds down he thinks that maybe he’ll die from this. It’s that fucking good.

“Fuck,” Jonas moans, and his arms automatically lift to wrap around Isak’s back, pulling him closer and a hand moving up to cling to Isak’s hair. “Yeah, Issy, like that. _Fuck_ , like that.”

Isak shivers in reply, loving the feeling of Jonas’s hand on his hair and his arm around the small of his back, holding him as close as he can as they grind together.

There’s no denying it: they’re shamelessly rubbing off on each other.

This isn’t jerking off in the same room anymore. This is something else entirely.

Jonas’s hand slips down to squeeze Isak’s ass and they groan in unison as their dicks bump against each other.

“God, Jonas,” Isak whines, “I can’t believe…”

Jonas moans, muttering, “You feel really fucking good,” into his shoulder, hand still on Isak’s ass and angling them in the perfect way.

Isak trembles when he feels Jonas’s cock drag against his, slow and hard. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, slightly delirious and on the verge of coming.

Jonas stops.

“ _No_ ,” Isak sobs, high and desperate. But Jonas shifts his hips away, depriving him of his dick. He flips them over so Isak is now squirming underneath him. Isak’s hand moves to hold onto Jonas’s ass, firm and muscled in his hands, but Jonas keeps his distance.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time?” Jonas asks, surprise in his voice but still breathing heavily. He doesn’t seem put off by the comment, just thrown. Isak figures that he wasn’t expecting that.

Isak tries to control his breathing, and snakes his other hand down his torso to the front of his underwear, cupping his hard length and squeezing. He closes his eyes at the sensation. “I’ve wanted _you_ for a long time,” he finally says, quietly.

When he opens his eyes, Jonas is staring at his face. And he doesn’t seem angry, or upset, or disgusted. He looks the same as he has this entire time—interested, intrigued, and invested.

Jonas lifts his hand, cupping the side of Isak’s jaw. And then he kisses him.

And fuck. Fuck. _Jonas_.

Jonas’s lips.

It’s not Isak’s first kiss, but it’s his first kiss with Jonas, his first kiss with a _boy_ , so it feels like it’s his first kiss. His first real, genuine kiss. It’s sweet at first, lips sliding together slickly as they explore each other, licking and nipping until Jonas opens his mouth and welcomes Isak’s tongue, and then it’s hot, sizzling hot from the unadulterated desire between them. They’re licking into each others mouths languidly, moaning when it feels especially good, and it’s everything Isak has ever wanted.

“Tell me,” Jonas requests breathlessly, when he pulls away. His eyes dart down to Isak’s hand, still squeezing his dick through his underwear. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“Is this some kind of ego thing?” Isak asks, in pure curiosity.

Jonas chuckles quietly, leaning down and kissing Isak’s throat. He leaves a few open-mouthed kisses, teasing along the length of his neck. “A little bit,” he admits into the crook of Isak’s neck. “But also—”

Nothing is said for a few moments. Jonas continues to lick Isak’s neck, and it’s doing a lot of good things to him, but he wants to hear the rest. “Also?” He prompts.

Jonas licks his lips and then bites down on the base of his neck, sucking a bruise. “But also,” he whispers, “After seeing what you look like when you’re all worked up…”

Jonas pulls back, trailing his eyes slowly down the length of Isak’s body. His gaze burns. “You’re really fucking hot, Is.”

Isak closes his eyes. This has _got_ to be a dream. Jonas is straight, isn't he?

After tonight, he’s not so sure.

“Everything,” Isak replies, answering his question when he opens his eyes and squeezing his own cock. “Fuck, everything. You touching me. My mouth on your dick,” he lists.

“Fuck,” Jonas breathes, and moves his hand down to join Isak’s at his dick. Jonas’s fingers lightly brush up the length of Isak’s cock, almost reverently, and Isak watches as his jaw goes slack. And fuck, those are Jonas’s _fingers_ on Isak’s dick. “What else?”

Isak fists a hand in Jonas’s curls. “Your mouth on mine,” he says, and Jonas brushes the back of his hand over him again, gently.

“Sometimes I’d think about us play fighting,” Isak says, losing himself in the moment. “Like when you move in to tickle me after I beat your ass at FIFA.” Jonas squeezes his dick, and _oh_. He whimpers. It's half to make Isak feel good, and half reprimanding, and Isak should not find that so attractive.

“We’d rub off against each other, like we were before. Not taking off our clothes. Just you rubbing your dick against mine.”

“Isak,” Jonas whispers into his ear, and he shivers from the hot breath and voice that is unmistakably Jonas. Jonas moves his hand away and pushes his body forward, going back to grinding on Isak’s body.

“And sometimes,” Isak says, breath catching in throat. “Sometimes, I’d think about you inside me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jonas moans loudly, and Isak can feel it—Jonas comes in his underwear, shaking as Isak grinds up into him steadily, milking him through his orgasm.

He’s beautiful. Better than Isak could have ever imagined.

When Jonas comes back to Earth, still a bit disoriented, he asks in a shaky voice, “You want that?”

“Yeah,” Isak admits, in a low voice. Isak can tell that he sounds overwhelmed. He’s so close, so close, and he wants to come so badly. “More than anything.”

Isak has thought about being inside Jonas, too, but he keeps that to himself for the moment. He doesn’t want to scare Jonas off too much, just in case he doesn’t want that.

Jonas slots a thigh between Isak’s legs and ruts his hips down, wet against him, and it only takes Jonas saying, “I want that too,” for Isak to join him on the other side.

 

–

 

In the aftermath, it’s silent and awkward.

If Isak had felt drugged during what just occurred, high on endorphins, he feels unbearably sober right now.

Neither of them knows what to say.

Did they just ruin everything?

Jonas goes to his bathroom to clean up after himself, and Isak puts on his clothes quickly, quietly slipping out of Jonas’s bedroom window.

Getting off with Jonas once was not worth the price of their friendship.

 

–

 

It takes three days for Jonas to come to him.

Isak is in his bedroom reading an old Captain America comic and feeling nostalgic when he hears a loud _thud_ and _shit_ from outside his window.

He scrambles up, moving toward the frame, and laughs loudly when he sees that Jonas fell on his ass trying to climb up his tree again.

“You’re an idiot,” Isak calls out, momentarily forgetting that they’re in a fight. Argument. Awkward-stage. Thing.

“Shut up,” he hears Jonas mutter quietly from his spot on the grass.

Isak moves back into his room and makes sure that he looks somewhat presentable in the time it takes Jonas to climb back up again. When he comes through his window, the first thing out of his mouth is, “You can’t hide from me after what happened, Isak, that’s not fair.”

“I know,” Isak says, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He does know. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He can barely look him in the eye right now.

Jonas makes his way over to the bed, and he sits down.

“Why did you leave?”

Isak sighs. “I don’t know. I was scared.”

“And you think I’m _not_?” Jonas asks. That catches Isak’s attention. He does look scared right now. He guesses they’re both a bit scared out of their minds.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” Isak admits, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“You didn’t. You won’t,” Jonas insists.

Isak isn’t so sure about that.

“Look, Isak… do you want to be with me?” Jonas asks tentatively. “Because I want to be with you.”

_What?_

“What?” Isak questions, shocked. “Are you gay?”

“I’m not, like, straight,” he tries to explain, but he looks slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. But I definitely like guys. I couldn’t do what I did with you if I didn’t.”

That makes sense in theory, but Isak is still terrified.

He _knows_ that he’s gay. What if Jonas suddenly decides one day that he isn’t attracted to guys? Isak doesn’t know if he could handle it.

Isak is silent.

Today, when he looks at Jonas, he can see that he’s different than the person he met when he was nine. Nine-year-old Jonas was confident, unassuming, and fun-loving. Charming in his own way.

Sixteen-year-old Jonas is different. He stands before Isak, unabashedly sharing his feelings, but still with a hint of insecurity to him. Isak has never seen this side of Jonas before, and it makes him want to hug him. This Jonas is the same as the last one, but the difference is this: Isak has a deep, unconditional love for this Jonas in a way that he didn’t for the old one. This Jonas is brave enough to bare his soul for Isak. This Jonas is undoubtedly his best friend.

He stretches out his hand, reaching for him. And Jonas comes to him willingly, lying beside him on top of his duvet. Jonas intertwines their fingers together, and Isak can feel his heart swell at the action.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” Isak confesses, whispering.

Jonas’s lips twitch. “I assumed so, with the whole _I’ve wanted this for a long time_ thing.”

Isak scoffs. “Stop being so smug about that, for fuck’s sake.” And then he punches Jonas in the arm.

“Ouch!” Jonas says teasingly, rubbing at his bicep. “Packing a killer punch there, Issy. Shaping up for the big Yakuza fight?”

Isak rolls his eyes, but doesn’t answer him. The truth is: he’s been at the gym lifting weights ever since Jonas got jumped. When he said he was going to get justice, he meant it.

A comfortable silence falls between them. Jonas plays with Isak’s fingers, and Isak revels in the easy way they’ve fallen into whatever this is. It isn’t platonic anymore, but it isn’t explicitly romantic yet. Is it?

Before they talk further, he needs to tell Jonas something.

“My dad left the night I was at your place. When I came back, his stuff was gone. I don’t know where he is.”

Jonas simply looks at him. Isak doesn’t want to see pity in his eyes, but when he looks at Jonas, all he can see is something else. Something he’s always hoped for.

It’s not quite love, but Isak thinks it has potential.

Jonas lets go of Isak’s fingers, and rests his hand over Isak’s cheek. He melts into the warmth of Jonas’s palm, revelling in the thumb stroking gently over his cheekbone.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he admits softly.

“There isn’t much you can do, Issy. Your mom isn’t your responsibility. And your dad is an asshole for leaving without even leaving a note.”

“I know, but…” Isak swallows, taking a gasping breath, and finally admitting why he’s so scared. “I have no one left.”

Jonas nudges himself closer, his grip on Isak’s jaw unwavering, and presses their foreheads together. “You have me,” he whispers against Isak’s lips.

Isak closes his eyes. Jonas’s lips find his, and they slot together easily. Isak never knew that kissing could be so comforting, so relaxing, so sweet. Jonas pulls him closer, kissing him until he’s breathless and their legs are intertwined together, and he shudders through it. Just when he thinks Jonas can no longer surprise him, he does this.

When Jonas pull away, Isak opens his eyes. And Jonas is smiling at him, like Isak is the biggest revelation he’s ever known. Isak kisses him on the cheek for looking at him like that, and when he pulls back, Jonas still has that damned look on his face.

“We’ll get through it, Isak. Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom desperately needs more Josak. >:(
> 
> References:  
> “Shh, my common sense is tingling.” —Deadpool #26  
> “Justice is about harmony. Revenge is about making yourself feel better.” —Batman Begins
> 
> You can find me on Twitter [@BlRTHMARKS](https://twitter.com/BlRTHMARKS)!


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